vision of the eyes, and full of promise of
a sudden illumination of the soul.

"Now, after falling what depths God knows, I become numbly aware of a
little griding sensation at my back, that communicated a whistling small
vibration to my whole frame. This intensified, became more pronounced.
Perceptibly, in that magnificent refinement of speed, our enormous pace I
felt to decrease ever so little. Still we had so far outstripped
intelligence as that I was incapable of considering the cause of the
change.

"Suddenly, for the first time, pain made itself known; and immediately
reason, plunging from above, overtook me, and I could think.

"Then it was I became conscious that, instead of falling, we were
rising, rising with immense swiftness, but at a pace that momently
slackened--rising, slipping over ice and in contact with it,

"The muscles of my arms, clasped still about Fidele, involuntarily
swelled to her. My God! there was a tiny answering pressure. I could have
screamed with joy; but physical anguish overmastered me. My back seemed
bursting into flame.

"The suffering was intolerable. When, at last, I thought I should go mad,
in a moment we took a surging swoop, shot down an easy incline, and
_stopped_.

"There had been noise in our descent, as only now I knew by its
cessation--a hissing sound as of wire whirring from a draw-plate. In the
profound enormous silence that, at last, enwrapped us, the bliss of
freedom from that metallic accompaniment fell on me like a balm. My
eyelids closed. Possibly I fainted.

"All in a moment I came to myself, to an undefinable sense of the
tremendous pressure of nothingness. Darkness! it was not that; yet it was
as little light. It was as if we lay in a dim, luminous chaos, ourselves
an integral part of its self-containment. I did not stir; but I spoke:
and my strange voice broke the enchantment. Surely never before or since
was speech exchanged under such conditions.

"'Fidele!'

"'I can speak, but I cannot look. If I hide so for ever I can die
bravely.'

"'_Ma petite!_ oh, my little one! Are you hurt?'

"'I don't know. I think not.'

"Her voice, her dear voice was so odd; but, _Mon Dieu_! how wonderful in
its courage! That, Heaven be praised! is no monopoly of intellect.
Indeed, it is imagination that makes men cowards; and to the lack of this
possibly we owed our salvation.

"Now, calm and freed of that haunting jar of descent, I became conscious
that a sound, t